Who is Studd

From the back cover…..

His Name Is Studd - He Deals In Life And Death Studd is a big-game hunter, a former secret agent and the kind of intense man who attracts women - and more then his share of danger. Contacted by his onetime chief to go on an emergency mission, Studd refuses. But when he learns that his intended adversary is Royal, the mysterious leader of a powerful, death-dealing organization - and that his sister is one of Royal's victims - Studd accepts. What follows is a spellbinding hunt in a maze of international espionage .... building to an explosive climax in the tradition of the greatest of shockers!


I love this kind of trashy paperback, they are sort of the literary equivalent of a Grindhouse movie and in the early 70’s the shelves were just full of the kind of books that men like. Although I had never heard of Anthony Cullen before, the cover text is just awesome, but the picture is what really sold me on this one. Who can’t love a big tited girl with a shirt that never quite buttons standing with a tough looking man with gray temples, hunting gear and oddly enough some sort of ray gun?

I took one look and it went right into the cart and was easily the best quarter I spent all week.


Here are some quotes from this unacknowledged classic of English Literature

Studd meet a girl....

Her wiggle before she reached the doorway attained proportions that had every glass in the establishment halted halfway up or down and stopped all conversation more effectively then could any imaginable triviality like the opening of nuclear hostilities. For a moment I thought of getting her back to do it again, then passing the hat round. But I was much too mad.

She was an able conversationalist, most animated, oddly enough for a camellia whose appearance suggested only the mental level of toilet soap.

Of course by the end of the chapter Studd was showing her his weapon and she was breathless with anticipation.

Studd meets his ex-employers private secretary……

I’d noted on arrival that this house was in a comparative pool of darkness, at the extreme edge of infrequently spaced street-lamps, along this isolated crescent. So just as he was turning to shut the door behind us, I stiff-fingered him in the windpipe. Experts recommend that it’s as well to know how to do this, since overindulgence can be nasty.


Studd at the tailors…..

He seemed to have the vapors, but I coxed him (if “him” was the accurate gender) along from plaintive languor to passionate energy, and then tottered of thankfully to have a beer. An Indian tailor back home would have thrown in twelve daughters for the money.


Studd meets the Villains Major Domo…..

“The Great Studd!” he declared, half smiling, musingly. This didn’t seem to rate a bow or any other riposte from me. He was pleased enough with himself as it was. And the gun was held steady.

I remembered thinking in that London pub that he might be good some day if he stayed alive long enough and didn’t get his water in a froth. A sound judgment; in this spot I wouldn’t want to change a comma.

“You were a fool to think you could match up to someone like Royal,” he went on still quietly. “He doesn’t just dream of power like some cheap megalomaniac. He foments it. He is impenetrable. Even without me he would have brushed you aside……I grabbed his wrist and twisted and swept both his legs out from underneath him, landing with both knees in his kidneys as he fell face first. He didn’t want to let the gun go, straight off, so I broke his arm, and he saw things my way then.

What can I say gang, this one was worth the time